


Darkness Comes Too Early

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13491882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke isn't really expecting a (sort of) missing girl to wander into her sandwich shop. But if her brother wants to keep coming in to check if she's around, Clarke can live with it.





	Darkness Comes Too Early

**Author's Note:**

> Windy said she wanted to make a Blake siblings comic based on [this commercial](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkbNvJhGAJk), but she never actually did, so I said I'd do it as a fic and here we are.

The first time the man comes in, Clarke doesn't think much of it.

He's familiar in the way most people who live in her neighborhood are, someone she's seen before in passing but never interacted with much. She noticed him more than some because he's fairly attractive, and he's polite and inoffensive when he comes in. Plus, sometimes he mutters under his breath like he's having an argument with himself, which is adorable.

So when he comes in an hour before closing, looking exhausted, Clarke figures he's just had a bad day and needs a pick-me-up. Plenty of people like to get themselves a treat after a long day. He seems to keep weird hours, so he might have just finished up. 

But the way he approaches her is deliberate, pasting on a kind of polite, hopeful smile, like he's putting on a costume. "Hi, I was hoping you could help me out."

"If you want a sandwich, absolutely."

He pulls his phone out and turns it on, showing her a picture of a girl who's slightly less familiar than he is. She hasn't come in as often, maybe, or she's just not as notable. She's in high school or college, one of the gaggle of teenagers who come in for cookies or drinks and then take over her seats for hours.

"Have you seen her?"

"Yeah."

She did think he meant in general, so she's not prepared for the force of his reaction. "When? Did she leave? Did you see where she went?"

"Not today," she says, slow, and his shoulders slump in defeat.

"Fuck."

Part of her can't help being suspicious; older guys coming in asking about teenage girls is generally sketchy, and it’s impossible not to wonder what he wants with her. But the picture is easy, casual, the girl rolling her eyes and flipping off the camera with a smile playing around her lips, and it doesn't look like something he could have taken without her knowing about it.

"If she comes in, can you--" His face twists up, like he's not sure how to complete the sentence. "Fuck, I don't know. I'll be back in a couple days to ask if you've seen her again."

"So I should tell her some weird guy is asking about her? If I see her.”

"Her brother," he corrects.

She has no particular reason to believe him, but it does seem plausible. He'd be a good deal older than his sister, at least five years and probably closer to ten, but that's not that outlandish or anything. The family resemblance isn't strong, but she can see it. And, well--she's not going to do anything like tell him where the girl is, if she's lost, but she does feel like he's really worried. Like he's telling the truth.

"I should tell her that her brother is looking for her."

"If you don't mind." He pauses, fishes around in his wallet for a ten. "And give her something to eat? If she needs it."

"You're giving me ten dollars just in case your sister shows up?" she asks, dubious.

His smile is crooked. "If she doesn't, you can always give it back. I don't know how much cash she has on her and she's not great at planning ahead, so--yeah. If she shows up here, she's probably going to be hungry.”

It's nothing she's expecting to actually go anywhere, but she accepts the cash. She doesn't want him trying to force the issue. "Are you telling all the vendors around here about this?" she asks, cocking her head.

"Depends on how long she's gone." He runs his hand through his hair. "Sorry, I know this is weird, I just don't know what else to do. You're going to get tired of me soon."

"If you keep giving me money I won't," she says, and he does laugh, even if the tension doesn't leave his body. 

"Then I guess I'd better hit the ATM too. Thanks for looking out for her," he adds, and she shrugs.

"Wouldn't want anyone going hungry."

It's not as if Clarke is at her store every hour of every day. They're a small, fairly lowkey sandwich shop, open from lunch until 2 am mostly because they're close to the university, and drunk college kids love stumbling in for late-night snacks. She doesn't have a ton of employees, but she has enough that she does get some time off, sometimes. But she still sort of expects that if the mystery guy's (supposed) sister comes in, she'll know about it. She knows most things that happen here.

And she is keeping her eye out.

The guy doesn't come back the next day, but he does the day after that, right at opening. He looks like he hasn't been sleeping, and Clarke is torn between thinking he's a real concerned brother or one of those serial killers like on _Criminal Minds_ who takes advantage of her belief that he's on the level to kidnap an innocent girl.

So she can be friendly without helping him. That works for her.

"Any sign of your sister?" she asks, when he gets to the counter.

His smile is worn, but looks genuine. "Not yet, no."

"Have you called the police?"

"I don't have anything to call them about," he says, with a sigh. "She's eighteen, she left a note. She's not a missing person, and she's not really a runaway. She's an adult, she can do what she wants. And what she wants is not to live with me."

He sounds so exhausted that Clarke slides him a coffee without being asked. "You want to vent about what happened?"

"Don't you have a job to do?"

She shrugs. "It's pretty quiet right now, Peter can handle it. Come on, take the coffee. You gave me that ten, you've got credit."

"That's for Octavia," he says, but he does accept the cup. "She's pretty unhappy right now. My sister. It's not like I don't get why. Our mom died last year, and suddenly she was moving in with me, an hour away, in another school district, for her senior year of high school. I'd be pissed too. And it's not--" He huffs. "I always took care of her, but she used to feel like I was her ally against Mom, and now I'm the authority figure and we're not doing that well with it."

"And she ran away?"

"Like I said, she's eighteen. We had a fight, and when I went looking for her the next morning, she'd left a note that she needed to get away for a while." He rubs one big hand over his face. "She took her phone and she's been responding to texts so it's not like--I know she's not dead."

"But you're still stressing out. Obviously," she adds, when he glares. "I get it. It must be really tough."

"Like I said, she's still pretty new in town," he says, shrugging. "And she hasn't really bonded that much with anyone that I know of. So I'm kind of assuming she's in the woods, trying to live off the land or something."

"The woods where?" she asks, dubious. "We live in a city."

"Fine, in the park." He sighs. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but--she wants to prove she doesn't need me, and I'm worried she's not going to be able to admit it if it turns out she's wrong."

"And you think she is?"

"She's still in high school. She's cutting classes, and she missed work the other day. I have no clue what her plan is, but it seems pretty shitty so far."

"Do you know what she wants to do? Like, in life."

"Right now? Personal trainer. She says she doesn't need school for that, but I'm pretty sure a high-school degree never hurts. And I want her to go to college. I never could. She could do sports medicine or something.”

"If she doesn't want to, you could take the money and take some night classes," Clarke points out, and he shakes his head. 

"It's money for O. For her future."

"Even if she doesn't want it?"

"It doesn't have to be for college. Once she's done with high school, I could help her get her own place. Or--whatever she needs."

"Not that I'm an expert, but it sounds like she's trying to tell you she doesn't need anything."

He makes a face. "How many eighteen-year-olds do you know who could actually make it on their own?"

Clarke shrugs. "How old does she have to be before you believe she doesn't want the money?"

"Apparently a little older," he says, with a rueful smile. "How much for the coffee?"

"You've got credit."

“My sister’s credit.”

“Then it’s on the house.” She bites her lip. “You can just tell me your name and we'll call it even. In case this is all a scam and I need to call the cops.”

To her relief, he snorts and pulls an ID out of his pocket. Apparently he works for campus security. “Bellamy Blake. Do you have apples?”

“Apples?”

“If my sister shows up, her favorite comfort meal is grilled peanut butter and apple sandwiches.”

“Peanut butter and apple?”

He shrugs. “We grew up poor. That’s what I made her after school, and it’s still her favorite. You just put peanut butter on two pieces of multigrain bread, put apple slices on there, and then I threw it in the toaster. I came up with this when I was thirteen,” he adds, reflexively defensive, and she smiles.

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“So, nine years older than your sister?”

“About, yeah.”

“And your mom died last year.”

“Yeah.”

She nods. “Okay, so--do you need anything to eat?”

“No. Honestly, I should get to work. If you see my sister, uh—make her a sandwich, I guess?”

"Will do. Have a good day."

His smile is wistful. "Yeah. I'll try."

It becomes a routine over the next couple of days. Working in security, Bellamy keeps odd hours, but he stops by at least once a day, just to check in. He doesn't directly ask after his sister, but it's obvious how worried he is. Every day, his shoulders are more slumped, his burden heavier, and Clarke's heart aches.

"I dropped out of college," she tells him, five days after he first came in.

"Really?"

She shrugs. "I'm not saying it was the right idea, but--I was the perfect kid all through high school, I got into a great college, and then I just totally burned out. A couple bad relationships, a bad professor, a bad grade, and I felt like I was a complete failure. I still feel like that sometimes."

He drums his fingers on the counter. "And you ended up here?"

"It's kind of like you and your sister, I guess. My parents had a budget to get me through college, and they repurposed it when I decided I wasn't going back. But we're rich, so it was a lot more of a budget."

"So this is your place? You own it?"

"Yeah. I'm not saying your sister is like me, I have no idea. But I felt like I couldn't talk to my parents about how I was feeling, when I was having trouble with school, and that made it worse. If she thinks you won't listen to her--"

His smile is sheepish. "She might think that, yeah."

"Just something to think about. For when you see her again."

"Do you ever regret it?"

"Not enough to go back. I'm rich, like I said. If I told my parents I wanted to finish my degree, I could. But I'm too stubborn."

He cocks his head at her. "Stubborn?"

"If I go back, it's admitting I was wrong to leave in the first place."

"Seems kind of stupid."

She shrugs. "I'm happy with where I am."

There's a pause, and then he says, "I couldn't afford to do this for her. It's not--I don't want to crush her dreams or anything. But we're not rich. I can't give her second chances."

"Yeah." She shrugs. "Just think about it, I guess. You'd never let her starve, right?"

"Not if I can help it."

"So make sure you can help it."

He gives her a crooked smile. "I'll see what I can do. Thanks, Clarke."

She slides him a coffee; she can admit, at this point, that she worries about him. He doesn't look like he gets enough sleep. "Have a good day at work. See you later."

He raises the cup in appreciation. "Later."

It's half an hour before closing time when Octavia shows up. Clarke recognizes her at once--Bellamy's shown her more pictures, since the first time--and she'll admit, the girl doesn't look like she's doing great. She's cagey and clearly both cold and hungry, looking between the menu and the change in her hand as she does calculations.

"If I get a coffee in my own mug, it's a dollar, right?" she asks, when Clarke cocks her head.

"Yeah. Decaf?"

She looks at her phone, winces at something she sees. Maybe it's a text from Bellamy. Maybe he's still trying to get in touch. "Is there a deal for hot chocolate in a travel mug?" she asks, turning her attention back to Clarke.

"Yeah, that can be a dollar. Whipped cream?"

"Is it extra?"

"No."

"Then yeah."

Clarke puts the drink together and slides it across the counter to Octavia. "On the house."

A scowl flashes over her features, quick like lightning. "I can afford it."

If she didn't want Octavia to stay, she might fight her on it, but instead she shrugs one shoulder and takes the money. "Okay. Do you have fifty cents?"

"Why?"

"Half-price baked goods after eight. You can get a cookie or something if you want."

She picks one while Clarke goes to the grill to get the sandwich started, and once she's decided, she settles at the counter, nibbling the cookie. Luckily, Clarke doesn't actually have Bellamy's number, so she can't feel like she's supposed to be getting in touch with him; she's already doing everything she's supposed to be.

Octavia jumps at the sound of the plate in front of her, frowns when she sees the sandwich. "I didn't get this."

"Nope. It's still yours."

"I can't pay for it."

"You don't have to. Your brother left you a tab."

If she knew Octavia better, she might be able read the feelings racing across her face, but as it is, it's hard to guess what she's feeling.

"A tab," she finally says.

"Not a big one, just ten bucks. I assume he had to do it a lot of places."

She peels up the bread on one side of the sandwich, startles at the sight of the apples inside. She looks back up at Clarke, reevaluating her. "Bell really was here, huh."

"It would be a weird thing to make up," she points out, but it _is_ a relief. Some part of her had always worried a little that Bellamy was lying, that this was some weird mind game he was playing with no clear goal she could figure out.

"He must be really mad," Octavia says, looking down at the sandwich.

"Really _worried_. He's been going out of his mind."

"I can take care of myself."

"Why would you want to?"

Her eyes snap up to Clarke, suspicious, and Clarke makes herself lean back against the wall. She's not great at being casual and nonchalant, but she's learned how to fake it. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Room and board are really expensive. If you can live with your brother, you probably should. It's a lot cheaper while you're trying to get on your feet. And he's a good guy."

"How much has he come in here?"

"I think I'm his sympathetic ear."

"Sorry." She takes a bite of the sandwich, looking thoughtful. "I can't believe he told you what to make me."

"Have you been anywhere else around here?"

She shakes her head. "I was trying to stay away."

"What changed your mind?"

"It's not like I never want to see Bell again for the rest of my life," she says, slightly petulant. "But he's so--this!" Clarke raises her eyebrows, and Octavia sighs. "I tried to get away and he went to every restaurant in the neighborhood and told them to feed me stuff I liked if I showed up. He can't just let me take care of myself!"

"If you'd just paid me for a sandwich, I would have kept his ten bucks. You're the one who didn't have any money."

"I'm going to get some."

"I heard you weren't going to your job either."

"That job sucks!"

"So, you left home, stopped going to school, and quit your job, and that was your plan for taking care of yourself? Bellamy giving restaurants cash to feed you was probably more effective, and none of them have even done it yet."

She thinks Octavia is going to keep fighting her, but then she slumps, shoulders dropping in defeat. "He's going to be so mad at me."

"Yeah, probably. But you'll probably feel better if you have the fight. And I know he will. He's so worried about you."

"He doesn't have to worry about me," she mutters, but doesn't bother really arguing the point. "I don't need anyone to take care of me."

Clarke doesn't mind letting it go too. "So go take care of your brother instead. Unless you need another sandwich. That's like five bucks, so you still have some credit left."

She glances at her phone. "He's probably getting hungry. Can I get something for Bell to go?"

Clarke sends Octavia off with a bag of food for Bellamy and spends the rest of her shift wondering if he's going to show up. He has work, but--she does still want to hear from him. She doesn't want him to just disappear now that his sister is talking to him again. 

Honestly, she'd like it if he kept coming in every day. They could find something else to talk about.

He doesn't make her wait long. She closes up for the night, goes home and gets some sleep, and he's waiting at the door the next morning when she comes to open up.

The relief of it is instantaneous, and she tries not to let it affect her too much. She likes him; it's not news.

"Hey."

The way his whole face brightens with happiness at the sight of her shouldn't affect her either. She shouldn't let it. "Hi. I can't thank you enough."

“Sometimes you need an impartial third party.” She reconsiders. “Or at least a third party.”

He smiles, goes inside when she gestures him through the door. “You’re not impartial?”

“I like you more than I like your sister. And I mostly think you’re right.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

“She didn’t actually have a plan.”

“Yeah, she didn’t.” He sits on one of the tables, watching her go through the usual motions of opening. “But now she does. She’s going to finish senior year and keep living with me until she can afford her own place, but she doesn’t have to go to college if she doesn't want to. She can get a job.”

“That sounds pretty good.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I guess I thought if she didn’t go to college, I was failing her. It meant I hadn’t provided for her or whatever. But if she doesn’t want to go—“ 

“Yeah.”

The conversation lags, less because Clarke has nothing to say and more because she’s not sure how much he wants to talk. This could be the end of it; Bellamy has his sister back, and he doesn’t need her anymore. 

“I really do appreciate it,” he says. “Whatever you did. And the stuff you told me, too.”

“You did give me ten bucks.”

He laughs, but it’s kind of a tense laugh. “Yeah, uh—I don’t really think that’s enough.”

"You want to give me twenty bucks?"

"Or I could buy you dinner."

He looks nervous, but once he sees her expression, the tension melts out of him, and she grins wider. "Wow. That's smooth."

"Yeah, well. I figured it was worth asking, right? You put up with me all this last week, so--"

She clucks her tongue. "Dinner's kind of tricky for me. I can do it, it just might take a while. But I definitely want to see more of you, so--you can buy me something."

"I can go get you a coffee now, if you want."

"I have coffee here. We can drink my coffee for free."

"It was a gesture," he protests, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

"Or you can just come over here."

He does so, a little bemused but willing to go with it, and Clarke pulls him down for a kiss. It's not like she's spent the whole last week wanting this, not when there were other, more pressing things going on, but it was in the back of her mind. He was attractive, and she liked him, and she always wanted to see more of him.

Apparently he wants to see more of her, too.

"Okay, now we're even," she says, grinning at him.

"So if I kiss you again, does that mean you'll owe me?" he teases.

"Probably."

He does, and they get caught up in it, at least until Clarke remembers she's at work and her high-school-age employees will be showing up soon. The last thing she wants is for them to discover her making out on the counter.

"I'm going to have to make that one up to you later," she says, pushing him away with a breathless little laugh. "I have to finish opening."

"So, I've got credit again?" he says, and she laughs.

"Yeah," she agrees. "As much as you want."


End file.
